The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Power, You've Got It, I Want It! Options

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Yestere had been spent bringing some sort of order to my collection of artefacts, as well as dealing with the various issues that had arisen on my estate while I was away. Kallin wished to know if I was willing to send more miners to the Vassir-Didanat Mine since, according to the mine foreman, there were still some sizeable ebony deposits to be mined. Raissu Asserbas reported that a Yokudan blacksmith had requested permission to establish a forge on my estate, a wandering Bard had been arrested stealing from Gorven Menas and was incarcerated in the lower dungeons, and that a young lady in Hlaalu colours had approached the Tel, wondering if there was a vacancy for a cook. Raissu Asserbas also reported that the sale of the Glass from the nearby mine had accrued twelve thousand, five hundred and sixty Septims from a broker in Ebonheart on the Mainland ~ estate expenses were ten thousand, nine hundred Septims.

It’s no wonder I retired to bed early yestere and woke early this morning, I hadn’t realised that running an estate was such hard work. Raissu sympathised, reminding me that, as soon as everything was settled to my satisfaction, running of the estate would become almost invisible to me. I liked that idea. There was a reason I was keen to deal with the accumulated administrative details.

My sojourn to Mournhold had taught me a couple of valuable lessons. I am becoming extremely handy with an axe, so much so that it had become my primary weapon. There were times, as the tunnels in Old Mournhold had shown, when an axe wasn’t a viable weapon. And my sword-fighting skills, while much improved during the time since I’d stepped off the ship in Seyda Neen, were not good enough for me to use a blade efficiently as a secondary weapon. Then there was the magic. I had a small arsenal of utilitarian spells but I desperately needed some more powerful offensive spells as well as other spells that I could use at need.

I had a plan to deal with my lack of fighting prowess. I didn’t like the plan but it was the best I could come up with: I wanted Baladas to hear it before I put it into operation. I had also been asking some discrete questions about Jaron Scorchblot, the dispossessed Telvanni Llunela Hleran had spoken about. Turns out he was quite the legend and, up to eight hundred years ago, he was feared and respected by every Telvanni. I wanted to know how and why.

I translocated to Sadrith Mora and, after depositing some of my funds in my account, I water-walked across the Bay to the small rock where Jaron was currently residing. There, in a small lean-to hut, I met the oddest Telvanni I’ve ever encountered. For a start, he was Orc-Tall ~ much taller than any other Dunmer I’ve ever met. Secondly, he affected a totally bald head, which was covered in strange swirling designs. Thirdly, the Mer virtually hummed with power
.
“So,” I said, “you’re Jaron Scorchblot?”

“And you,” he replied with an engaging smile, “are Sudhendra Vahl or, should I say, Sed Telvanni Vahl? Oh yes,” he said in response to my question, “I’ve heard of you and been quite impressed. Now, what brings you to my palatial abode?”

“Power,” I said simply. “You have it, I want it. Or, to put it less bluntly, I want you to teach me how to wield whatever power made your name feared and respected.”

“Ahh,” he sighed, “those were the days, the glory days. Before my… problem. Tell me Sudhendra, do you know what a Theurgist is?” I shook my head and he snickered. “Hardly surprising, there are very few of us left nowadays. A Theurgist is a Mage who manipulates certain elemental powers: very powerful forces indeed. Because of my problem I oft-times find myself bereft of funds. Although it goes against the grain somewhat, I will train you as a Theurgist for five thousand Septims.”

I nodded, handing him two thousand five hundred Septims ~ all I had on my person at that point. The rest, I told him, would be available when he had shown me what he had to teach was worth such a princely sum. “Fair enough I suppose,” he said. “I will teach you a useful spell right now, and then I want you to go and fetch me some reagents. These I will use to create a potion for myself ~ in return I’ll teach you a spell that will prove that what I have to teach is worth the money.

“Now, there is one last thing I need to know, and that is what elemental power do you wish to control?” he asked. “I have knowledge of Fire and Storm, although I can also teach you about the power of Ice or the power of the Earth.”

“Ice,” I responded after a few moment’s thought.

“Hehe, so you prefer the cold and calculating approach eh?” he chuckled. “Personally, I prefer the cleansing power of Fire. Now, I’ll need three exceptionally fine pearls for my potion ~ you should be able to find plenty in the waters hereabouts. I think fifteen should be fine ~ I’ll pick the three finest and you can keep the rest.”

“The spell?” I reminded him. “You were going to teach me a spell before sending me out to collect the reagents.”

“So I was, so I was,” he said, scratching his bald dome. “Very well, attend closely…” For the next hour, Jaron taught me how to breathe water. When we’d finished, I stood on the shore of his small island and carefully spoke the phrase he’d taught me, “Na Awyra? Ad 'u anadl ddyfrha.”

I was delighted with the result of the spell, it allowed me to stay below the water’s surface for great swatches of time without having to surface and take gulps of air. In fact, the only problem with the spell was the tendency of everything to taste as though it had been over-salted for several hours after the spell dissipated. Meanwhile, I was able to swim about underwater and collect pearls from the vast beds of Kollops that existed in Zafirbel Bay. There were a couple of nasty moments ~ a run in with a couple of Slaughter-Fish that fancied salt Dunmer for lunch and a very odd encounter with a Dreugh that swam alongside me for several minutes.

Finally, I resurfaced with a large pile of pearls and, after drying and getting dressed, I took these over to Jaron. “Hehe, these are excellent, just what I need,” he said. “Now, I will teach you the first spell on your road to becoming a Theurgist. This is a little something that’ll make your handshake something to remember.” He took me, step by step, through the technique required to create the spell and allowed me to practice it on various bits of flora so that I could perfect it. “Now,” he said once we were sure I had mastered the powerful spell, “is that worth the balance of my fee?”

It certainly was and I offered to go straight to the bank and bring him the twenty-five hundred Septims immediately. “While you’re doing that,” he said, “I recently sent a courier over to Suran. For some reason, Arin hasn’t returned. I can’t abide sloppy work so I want you to go there and tell him he’s fired. Oh,” he added as I turned to leave, “and remember to get the shoes I lent him back.”

I translocated to Balmora and got the silt-strider to Suran. Even though it was quite late by the time I arrived in the sleepy little town, I decided to have a quick look around. “Hey you,” a voice called from by the dockside. I turned and saw Elvil Vidron standing in the shadows. I tensed, but the Mer seemed genuinely pleased to see me. “I’d like to thank you Ser Vahl,” he said, stepping from the shadows to reveal a brown Temple robe, “for returning me to the ways of the True Faith. If there’s anything I can do for you?”

“Actually,” I replied, “there might be. Do you know of a Mer named Arin? I don’t know his last name I’m afraid.”

“Arin?” Elvil replied. “You mean that Telvanni courier? He’s here quite a bit ~ always stays at Desele’s.” Thanking him, I made my way into the House of Earthly Delights and, after standing at the bar for a while, managed to catch Desele’s eye.

“Don’t get many of your sort in here priest,” she laughed. I slipped back the robe’s hood and she immediately changed her tune. “Well, well. If it isn’t my mysterious benefactor. I’m guessing it’s you I have to thank for getting the Camonna Tong off my back?” I nodded. “What can I do for you? Drink on the house, bed for the night?”

“Some information,” I replied. “I’m looking for a Telvanni courier, name of Arin. I’m told he comes in here…”

“Arin Darethi?” she interrupted. “Old Jaron’s Mer?” When I confirmed that this was most probably the person I was looking for, her face went grave. “He had an accident, if you know what I mean. I’m told he fell in the Nabia River and drowned. Which is odd, ‘cause he was such a good swimmer. Look, much as I’d like to help you, I think you’d better speak to the guards about this.”

Sensing I was making her uncomfortable with this line of questioning, I inclined my head and took my leave of the Inn. Finding a guard wasn’t difficult and, like all Hlaalu everywhere, he proved amenable to the odd bit of extra cash. “Not much to tell really,” he said, pocketing the coins. “Darethi fell in the river and drowned, right over there by the docks. We’re a bit short-handed at the moment so couldn’t spare any men to drag him out. Besides, we figured it was a Telvanni matter and shouldn’t get involved.”

The Tradehouse in Suran proved to have a spare bed I could use for the night and, after a pleasant meal with the proprietor, I retired for the night. There was something odd going on here ~ I didn’t know what, but I hoped the morning light would help me find out.

[Wolfie]

Cool. I want to know what spell the guy taught her

[OverrideB1]

The Mod currently playing through above is 'The Theurgist' (Can't remember who wrote it ~ it's quite an old mod now).

Basically, it's a GO-DO mod with some very nice rewards. I usually tone down some of them as they border on Uberness, but they're quite nice nonetheless.

In Addition to the items you get, Jaron also teaches you the following spells, in this order:

• A contact spell (Fire, Shock, or Ice)
  
• A lesser targetted spell in the element of your choice
  
• A summon (Ice, Fire, Earth, Shock) elemental
  
• A killer spell based on the element you chose.
  
  
  The Earth Elemental spells are more defensive than offensive ~ not something a power-hungry Telvanni would choose
  
  Edit: The mod is by Narkybark and is available on The Summit

[OverrideB1]

I explored the dock area of Suran this morning, looking for the body of Jaron’s courier. When I couldn’t find it, I water-walked up the Nabia River until I spotted a semi-skeletal corpse on the riverbed. Dismissing the water-walk spell, I cast the water-breathing spell Jaron had taught me yestere and allowed myself to sink to the bottom of the river. There was no doubt that the corpse was that of Arin Darethi ~ if the Telvanni sigils on his robe weren’t enough, there were the waterlogged shoes he wore. They sang with high-grade magic and, tugging them off, I took the opportunity to examine the body. Unfortunately, I could find no evidence of foul play ~ although I was puzzled how he’d got up here if he’d had his ‘accident’ down by Suran.

Surfacing, I saw that I was near a Daedric shrine. Wading ashore, I realised I was at the southernmost tip of the Molag Amur and that, according to my map; the shrine was called Bal Ur. Looking at the ancient stone towers and ruined domes made me shiver and I realised that, apart from a very brief journey into Maelkashishi, I had never explored one of these ruins fully. A lot of that was the sheer terror these places engendered in me every time I saw one. For some reason, the cyclopean buildings struck a primal chord deep within me and I had an overwhelming urge to flee. Bal Ur was no different.

Actually, it was. Determined to conquer my fear of these ancient places, I shouldered my pack and crossed the dusty ground between the huge blocks of fallen stone until I came to the inevitable oval door. Exactly matching the door at Maelkashishi, except for details of the carvings around the frame, it opened in exactly the same disconcerting manner. Taking a deep and shaky breath, I ventured inside.

The short stone corridor led into a room dominated by three things. The first of those things was the most important ~ large, reptilian shapes with snapping jaws and venomous breath. The Wish sang it’s song of dismemberment and death and the Mundus was lighter by the weight of two more Dremora. This gave me time to appreciate the remaining features that dominated this dark chamber. The first were the huge stone… objects handing from massive chains from the vaulted ceiling high over head. Big enough for me to have stood in, these strange cubes of stone seemed to serve as both censer and light-source. A mist rolled from each of the four diamond-shaped slots on the side: glowing a dim blue-white and smelling faintly of expensive unguents and spices.

The mist was lit from below by a dull, red light ~ which tainted everything in the chamber with is roseate glow. Shuffling carefully over to the massive balustrade that ringed the hole in the floor, I peered down into a vast pit of roiling lava. The exotically scented mist just about covered up the thick sulphurous stench coming from below.

There appeared to be no way down from this upper floor but the most obvious and I wasn’t quite prepared to sling myself off the edge and hope that there was nothing down there that was… inimical. Besides, I could see movement down there but the rising fumes and the curling mist made it well nigh impossible to discern what was making the movement. I stood there a while, drinking in the atmosphere until I could stand it no longer. At a brisk pace, I left that accursed place and made my way outside. I assume that there was a method of reaching the lower floor that didn’t involve throwing yourself off a high ledge over a vat of boiling rock but, frankly, I was not interested in seeking it out. Even though I had barely ventured into the shrine. They were sites of ancient power and often infested with insane cultists, or worse, but I no longer feared them as much as I had. And the rewards, I reflected as I tucked the apprentice scroll into my pack, were often worth the risk. Opening the way back to Jaron’s island, I returned to give him the news.

“Dead eh?” Jaron said, clearly distressed. “That’s… annoying. Especially since you think the accident wasn’t accidental. Are you sure there were no clues as to who killed Arin?” I confirmed that I’d found nothing. “I may have to investigate that situation myself, although I do have a suspicion as to the name of the person responsible. Now, I have another task for you.

“There is a woman I was once enamoured of, name of Neela Angletoe,” he told me. “She is a dancer at Desele’s and has a locket I want returned. And I’d like you to get the locket for me.”

“What?” he asked, looking puzzled when I offered him the shoes I’d recovered. “Oh those, you might as well keep them for yourself. Hehe, they might come in handy.”

Since Suran seemed to be becoming a focal point and I wanted to avoid travelling through Balmora more than I absolutely had to, I translocated to Ald’ruhn and purchased a Void-Walk spell for the Hlaalu township. Standing in Ald’ruhn’s dusty main square, I spoke the cantrip, “Ex hic absum, ut Suran”

“Neela, yeah I remember her,” the stocky Hlaalu guard said when I asked him about the dancer. “Had a fling with some old geezer a couple of years back. Kind of easy on the eyes, if you know what I mean.” With a laugh, he nudged his companion with his arm. “A nod’s as good as a wink to a blind Alit. Anyway, she worked over at Earthly Delights but I ain’t seen her for, ohhhh, couple of months now.”

Helviane Desele seemed quite amused to see me back so soon, making a sotto voice comment to one of the patrons that made him splutter in his Matze. “Help you?” she asked.

“I’m looking for one of your dancers,” I told her. Ignoring the arched eyebrow and the wicked expression on her face, I pressed on, “her name’s Neela Angletoe. An old… flame asked me to get in touch with her on his behalf.”

“Well, she doesn’t work here any more young Mer,” she said. “Decided she’d had enough of the lifestyle and took herself off to Caldera I think it was. Said she was looking for ‘honest’ work.” Thanking Desele, I returned to Balmora and struck out on the road to Caldera. I asked several of the Imperials around the town, but all I got were variations on “Never heard of her”.

I sat in Shenk’s Shovel and pondered the problem over a light meal. Perhaps, I thought, if she lives here she has a job here. I visited each of the stores in Caldera (the only other option being to go around knocking on every door in the hope that she’d answer). Finally, I struck lucky in the local clothier’s store.

“Yes, I’m Neela Angletoe,” the tall Dunmer woman said. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m here on behalf of Jaron Scorchblot,” I explained. “He’s sent me to retrieve a locket. It seems that it’s quite important to him.”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice, her face crumpling as tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s… it’s very precious to me,” she said, her voice breaking. “Although Jaron and I parted acrimoniously, we did have some great times. And the locket is all I have to remember those times…”

“Shhh,” I soothed, “don’t worry. If the locket means that much to you, I’ll tell Jaron that you didn’t want to part with it.” She gave me a small smile, wiping her cheeks. I turned to Falanaamo, the shopkeeper, “and can I get a glass of water for Neela?”

“Uh, oh, yeah, of course,” he said, startled out of his reverie. While he went into the back to get some water for the Dunmer woman, I took the opportunity to have a look around his shop. He had a large number of garments, mostly western in cut and style ~ although made from local materials. In one corner of the shop was a dress, fashioned in the Breton style ~ all long sleeves and flowing lines. It was the material that caught my eye, a deep and glittering black fabric I’d never seen before.

“Impressive, no?” Falanaamo said from just behind me. “Finest quality fabric and one of my better designs, even if I do say so myself. Are you interested?”

I was, and we dickered on the price for a while before settling on two hundred and ten Septims. Delighted with my purchase, I took my leave of the shop.

[Wolfie]

Cool. But what need does she have for a fancy dress?

[minque]

[quote=LoneWolf]Cool. But what need does she have for a fancy dress?[/quote]

NEED????????? you said NEED?? A female doesn´t NEED a dress she WANTS it just for the sake of it! :rofl:

I can definitely understand why Sudhendra wants a fancy dress, she´s a woman...a beautiful woman who wants to feel.....like one for a change of all dirty fighting she´s been doing

[Wolfie]

Ok. Once i have a reason i'm happy

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After taking a meal at Shenk’s Shovel, where the Alit steaks are ~ to my mind ~ the finest in the whole of Vvardenfell, I cast Recall and returned to Jaron’s rocky islet in Zafirbel Bay. “She remembers me with affection?” the old sorcerer gasped when I explained why I’d not returned the locket. “I’m unsure why that should be, given the circumstances of our parting, but I am overwhelmed that she does.

“Here,” he said, reaching into one of the sacks that littered his lean-to hut. From it he withdrew a translucent figurine, “Neela always liked these. Please deliver this to her. Quickly.”

Startled by the tears shining in the ancient Mer’s eyes, I took the figure from his blindly outstretched hand and made myself scarce. As I stood outside the hut, I could hear the Theurgist sniffling and blowing his nose inside. Love makes fools of us all, I reflected as I opened the way to Balmora and translocated across the void. Noting the number of flat and unfriendly stares I got as I walked through the Commercial District towards the Caldera Road, I decided that I was going to be avoiding Balmora for a while ~ I got the sense that people were watching me to see if anything interesting or messily fatal was going to happen.

Neela squealed in delight, jumping up and down and hugging me by turns as she gazed at the tiny figure on the counter When she’d calmed down a bit, she carefully unhooked a small golden amulet from around her neck and handed it to me, saying, “I want you to return this to Jaron and let him know that I still care for him, despite his Skooma problem.”

Jaron was over-the-moons when I handed him the locket: although he maintained a stoic face, I knew he was leaping and laughing on the inside. “I think the time has come to teach you a more powerful spell,” he said. Fetching out a musty old book, he flipped through the pages until he came to the bit he wanted. “Now, this spell is called ‘Blast of Frost’, and this is how you make it happen…”

It took me an hour or two to master the spell ~ it was quite simple once you understood the principle of it. Actually casting it was a different matter: to do so would almost drain me of all my magicka. Although, given the ferocity and power of the spell, it was certainly useful to have it. When we had finished, Jaron excused himself for a while and, when he came back he was oddly cheerful despite the task he had for me. Then i remembered Neela's comment...

“You are not my first pupil,” he said. “Hehe. Doesn’t happen very often, but this young man offered me a lot of money at a time when I needed it. However he left, fortunately before he could learn too many dangerous spells. The problem is, this youngster has taken up with an obscene cult.

“I don’t know details of the cult Fester joined,” he continued. “Hehe, not that it matters. What I do know is where they are based. That is in the caverns known as Hassour, down in the Foyada Mamaea. Now, what I’d like you to do is…”

“Excuse me Jaron,” I said. “But was this Man’s interest in Fire?”

“It was,” the Theurgist replied, narrowing his eyes. “Why do you ask?” I explained to him the circumstances of my visit to Hassour and detailed what I could remember of the Man that I’d encountered there. Jaron nodded when I described the fiery vortex the Man had conjured and, when I’d finished, he said, “that sounds very much like my erstwhile apprentice. Well hehe, seems like you’ve saved yourself a journey. And you’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”

Rummaging around in another of the sacks, he fetched out a glove. Blowing the dust off it, he examined the fine blue fabric then plunged into the sack again. Several sacks later, Jaron was red-faced and flushed. “Damn’ I must have given the blasted thing to Miles. I’ll tell you what ~ you fetch me a portion of vampire dust and a portion of frost salts and I’ll show you how to summon an Ice Elemental.”

Well, that was a simple enough assignment. I simply travelled back to Tel Vahl and raided the contents of my alchemy lab before returning to Jaron’s island. “Excellent,” he said. “Now, attend closely…”

Summoning an elemental is, it transpired, totally different to Summoning. There was a distinctly alchemical feel to the process as Jaron showed me how to combine the ingredients I’d brought him to create what he called ‘The Precursor’. From thereon in, it was a more familiar process, albeit one with distinct differences. When I’d finished, I found myself facing a very Meric-looking creature with pale, greyish skin, white hair, and the most startling blue eyes I’ve ever encountered.

“Humph,” Jaron groused, looking at the figure critically. “One of the Dukes of the Realm if I’m not mistaken. Very impressive young Vahl, few manage to summon such a powerful being on their first try. Now, to dismiss it…” After I’d learned that lesson, Jaron presented me with a small silver flask and, with him keeping a close eye on me; I mixed and created more of the Precursor. I wear the flask, to this day, on my belt.

“I had wanted to present you with a pair of gloves,” he said, “but I seem to have given one of them to an old associate of mine. Last I heard Miles Durango was working for House Hlaalu. Do be a dear and fetch me the other glove will you?”

Balmora was a place I didn’t want to visit at the moment: too many unfriendly stares and people quickly turning away as I went by. There seemed to be a general consensus of opinion that I’d been behind the massacre at the Council Club for political reasons rather than my stated ‘self-defence’. While that was true, it didn’t make walking the narrow alleys and dark corners of the town very comfortable ~ the Camonna Tong could reach out any second and I doubted it would be to grasp me warmly by the hand.

Suran, a town I was getting to visit all too frequently in my opinion, proved to be a reasonable substitute. The same guard who’d made leering comments about Neela Angletoe gave me some information on Miles Durango. “He’s up Gnisis way,” the guard said, “on House business.”

[Wolfie]

Cool new installment

[jonajosa]

great job.

[OverrideB1]

Before the guard could start asking awkward questions about why I wanted to speak to the Argonian, I opened the way to Gnisis and stepped through into the bustling Redoran town’s Market Square. Miles wasn’t particularly difficult to find since he was the only Argonian wandering the courtyard by the Temple. “So, Dark Elf newest student Jaron has, yes?” it hissed when I addressed him. “Better last one than, this one hopes. Glove Miles have, yours eight thousand Drakes or glass dagger.”

“You want eight thousand Septims or a glass dagger for some ratty old glove?” I exclaimed. “That’s outrageous!”

“Glove Miles have, glove you want,” it said with a complex movement of the shoulders that I realised was the Argonian equivalent of a shrug. “Price Miles want, you know. Leave, take, all same to Miles.” The aggravating lizard was right, of course. It’s the earliest lesson taught to any Telvanni: what you have that others don’t gives you power over them. It surprised me that House Hlaalu taught a similar thing ~ although with them, inevitably, it had been corrupted to a matter of pure profit.

It just so happened that I knew the whereabouts of a glass dagger and it would be a subtle reminder to House Hlaalu that it doesn’t pay to anger Great House Telvanni, especially not their Arch-Magister. Arvs-Drelen’s lower chambers were, as always, deserted, and I quickly made my way to the storeroom and opened the chest I’d partially plundered when I first visited. With a sigh of relief, I saw that the green-bladed dagger was still there and picked it up with a grin. I hadn’t taken it on my previous visit for two simple reasons. Firstly, I am not skilled with a dagger and, truth be told, I’d had no idea how valuable the thing was. The second reason was slightly more compelling: for those that can see with more than mundane eyes, the dagger bore the unmistakable imprint of Great House Telvanni and, more importantly, the device and name of Baladas Demnevanni.

I could barely suppress my mirth as the Argonian and I completed the deal, swapping the glove for the dagger. I wondered how long it would be before Baladas missed the dagger and whether, by the time he did, he would have heard about the Argonian’s new blade? Miles Durango was in for an interesting time when that happened. I took myself back to Jaron’s hut and presented him with the glove.

“Excellent,” he said, turning the blue garment over in his hands. “Now, wait here while I infuse them with power.” He vanished inside his hut and, shortly after the door closed, there were flashes of light and several loud thuds. There was a silence, then a stream of invectives followed by a much louder thud and a brilliant flash of light. Looking slightly dazed, Jaron wandered out of the hut, several streaks of soot decorating his face. He blinked at me, than seemed to pull himself back together. “Ahem, yes. Hehe, a little problem there my dear, but nothing to worry about. Old Jaron has it under control, oh yes, very much under control.

“Here are your gloves,” he said, extending his hand. I took the blue gloves from Jaron, wincing as I did so ~ partially because of the sheer arcane power they gave off and partially because they were so cold to the touch. A filigree of fine silver wire decorated the back of the gloves and, set in the centre of each wire mesh was a single small blue stone. Not wishing to appear ungrateful, I slipped on the gloves. Once I was wearing them, I felt the harmonics of their magic settle into my bones and the oddest sensation of warmth.

Jaron smiled as I stood there, absorbing the song of the magic he’d woven into the gloves. “Some caveats,” he said, attracting my attention. “The gloves will increase your resistance to cold but, hehe, lower your resistance to fire-based magic. They also enhance your abilities to store magicka and focus it into frost-based spells.

“Now I have a favour to ask of you,” he continued, a sheepish look on his face. “I may have mentioned that I have a little problem…”

“Skooma addiction,” I interrupted, “Neela told me.”

“Ah, yes, well,” he spluttered. “Hehe, just a passing phase, I assure you. I can give it up any time I like. But that time isn’t now. I want you to bring me four bottles of Skooma ~ not the most glamorous of assignments, but I promise to teach you a very powerful spell in return.”

I’d heard rumours of smugglers up in the West Gash region, near Gnisis. That seemed to me to be the best place to start… on the morrow. For today was fast drawing to a close and I had no wish to be wandering around the wilds of West gash in the dark. Fara’s Hole-In-The-Wall had a room available so, for the reasonable price of eight Septims, I took it for the night.

[jonajosa]

You pick the most random times to put these updates on dont you?

anyway great next installment/post/part(why is called installment... you posted somthing... or did you install somthing also?)

[OverrideB1]

[quote=jonajosa]You pick the most random times to put these updates on dont you? [/quote]



Since I tend towards insomnia, I'd have to say that's a "yes". I may be random sometime later today :eek:

[Wolfie]

cool. I hope you post what happens to the argoinian though

[OverrideB1]

Yestere had been an exciting, but profitable day. I’d scoured various likely looking caves around Gnisis and met a lot of not-very friendly people who make their living transporting valuable items that they’ve acquired at minimal cost. Not only had I… borrowed four bottles of Skooma from them but had also acquired a number of other very valuable items ~ scrolls, interesting swords, Ioun Stones, and the like. I had also found another of those Sixth House cult places, this one in the caverns of Subdun. In accordance with Temple doctrine, I had put the place to the sword and cleansed it with fire.

I had also had a most strange encounter. Whilst exploring the caverns of Milk, I had come across an insane nobleman and his retinue. Although the Mer had seemed quite stable when I first approached him, his self-claimed title of ‘The Lord of West Gash’ the only sign of instability, he had become increasingly agitated as we spoke. Not knowing better, I confirmed that I was of Great House Telvanni when he asked and he went totally berserk ~ yelling something about Tel Fyr and amulets. I tried to dissuade him from attacking me, but he was already frothing at the mouth in a kind of battle-frenzy and, like any rabid beast, he had to be put out of his misery.

Jaron, of course, was delighted by my ‘gift’ and was visibly trembling by the time he’d taught me the spell ‘Blizzard’. His next task for me, spoken so quickly that the words tumbled together, was to travel to one of the old Dunmeri Forts: Andasreth on the Bitter Coast, just north of Gnaar Mok. There I would find three elemental beings that I needed to return to their respective realms. In so doing, I would release an ‘essence’ ~ these I needed to return to Jaron so he could create a robe for me. Barely were the last words out of his mouth and he was gone, the door of the lean-to hut slamming behind him. Yeah, I’m sure he could overcome his Skooma problem anytime he wished.

With a moue of distaste, I cast the void-walk spell that would transport me to Ald’ruhn. From there, it was simply a matter of striking out westwards along the dusty trails towards the coast until the austere scenery of the Molag Amur changed to the rolling hills and gentle valleys of West Gash. I say ‘simply’, but that does not convey the annoyance of continued Cliff-Racer attacks and the attentions of several very aggressive Nix Hounds. I did find, however, that the transition from West Gash to the northernmost tip of the Bitter Coast brought blessed relief from the harassment.

After about an hour of hacking my way through the undergrowth, I came to a steep hill that was, blessedly, free of vegetation. When I reached the crest of the hill, I found myself looking down into a ‘bowl’ formed of a ring of hills ~ open to the west so that the Dunmeri fortress that sat brooding at the bottom of this hollow had a view of the sea. Andasreth looked eerily deserted, but I wasn’t about to let appearances fool me. Telasero had caught me out; I wasn’t about to be caught out a second time by Andasreth.

I was right to approach Andasreth with caution; the place was a hive of bandits. This sad fact I learned almost the instant I entered through the massive double doors. I found myself in a transverse corridor which took a sharp turn at each end ~ these ends being only a dozen or so paces from the main entrance. I’d been so relieved to discover a dearth of flickering red candles that I’d quite overlooked one of the principle properties of a fortress such as this. Defensibility. I’d assumed that, upon breaching the doors, all I had to do was search out the elementals and deal with them ~ quite forgetting that the whole layout of the place would be designed to provide anyone inside the best opportunities for dealing with those from outside who got in. It was a lesson I was never to forget again.

A little way to my left was a deep alcove, set at the back of which was a guttering torch that provided fitful lighting for a short stretch of the corridor: much of the rest was dark and gloomy beyond this small patch of light. These alcoves were repeated throughout the Fortress. Moving quietly, I continued down the corridor until I reached the corner. Turning the corner, I saw another stretch of corridor leading away. I grinned, this was going to be easy: of course, the moment I thought that, one of the bandits who’d made the ruins their stronghold turned the corner at the bottom of the corridor.

He ran down the corridor towards me, drawing his sword as he came. “Dywyll chymylau, yn nadu bwrw eira, angheuol brythwch,” I chanted, extending a hand towards him. I gasped as the spell swept through me, a vast tumult of power. The corridor darkened, a thin rime of frost forming on the walls as the temperature plummeted. The Mer running towards me slowed, the same sheen of frost forming on his Bonemold armour. Improbably, thick flakes of snow began to swirl around his now stationary form. Rushing towards him, I swung the Wish ~ and then dearly wished I hadn’t. There was a sound like glass shattering and the whole of the Mer’s left arm simply… broke away. Even worse, the whole thing shattered on the floor when it hit: red, white, and skin-coloured fragments scattering everywhere. The Mer blinked ~ apparently that was all he could do. As I watched in horror, tiny cracks began to spread up the stump of the arm I’d partially removed and bits began to fall off…

Feeling much better, I stepped from the alcove and wiped my mouth. Carefully not looking at the steaming gobbets of flesh that now decorated the floor of the corridor, I advanced until I reached a door. Behind the door was a large chamber and a very aggressive Dunmeri armed with a short dagger. Brushing the dagger aside with the flat of my blade, I thrust forward, impaling her through the heart. The dagger she had been wielding was extremely interesting ~ the curved steel blade was etched with an Imperial dragon and the hilt was covered in thick, hard leather that I thought might be dragon-skin.

As I rounded the corner, I felt the temperature drop and, as I advanced down the corridor, it continued to get colder and colder. Finally, at the end of the hallway, I came to a door that was covered with delicate patterns of frost. I nodded to myself ~ if I were looking for an Ice Elemental, this would be an ideal place. Sliding the sword back into its scabbard, I unhooked the Wish from my pack and took a firm grip on the shaft. I also took a moment or two to search through my scrolls for some suitable spells. Having selected them, I took a deep breath and kicked open the door.

A bizarre sight met my eyes: standing in the passageway leading into the room was the frozen figure of a Mer. So thick was the ice covering him that it was impossible to tell if he had been Altmer or Dunmer. Behind him, I could make out two smaller figures standing ~ one on each side ~ of a much taller figure. At first glance, these figures might appear to have been Men but they weren’t: these were the ice elemental Shadowshard and its retinue. Using the frozen figure as cover, I unrolled the scroll and read the words of the Elemental Fire Blast spell.

The temperature soared and, with an unearthly scream, the two lesser elementals vanished. Shadowshard, however, was made of sterner stuff ~ striding through the flames towards me: glowing spheres of arcane energy forming around its hands. Shoving the Mer to one side, I rushed the elemental ~ bringing the Wish up and over in an aggressive smashing motion. The blade struck, the Dwemer metal ringing like a bell as the whole axe shivered in my hands. Shadowshard grimaced, its features contorting as the spell woven into the axe caused licks of flame to bloom on its pale skin. With a frenzy born of fear, I struck the unyielding figure again and again – each blow making the axe ring and vibrate. Slowly, relentlessly, I drove Shadowshard deeper and deeper into the chamber.

“[b]Enough,”

“I seek the essence of your realm,” I said, watching the creature warily. “And I wish you gone from this plane.”

“[b]The Latter I Grant Thee Freely,”

“Erm,” I said carefully, “by wishing you gone from the mortal realm, haven’t I, well, banished you?”

Pale, colourless lips curved upwards in what could pass for a smile. “[b]Mortal, Thou Art Too Clever For Thine Own Good. Take This Essence And A Warning. Mine Brother Elementals Art Not As Civilised, Them Thou Wilt Have To Banish By Force Of Arms Or By Magic.” With that, the blue-robed figure faded from view: where it had stood there was a small bottle. I hissed, drawing my hand back rapidly as I went to pick it up. Blowing on my fingers to get them warm again, I scouted out the room ~ finally finding a rough garment I could use to wrap the freezing bottle in so I could handle it.

Leaving the chamber, I continued down the corridor, mulling over Shadowshard’s words. The ice elemental had proved far easier to defeat than I had feared although, since it considered itself ‘civilised’, I suppose the fact it had yielded to me shouldn’t have come as a surprise. It did though ~ of the many creatures I’ve faced, both before that day and since, Shadowshard was one of the very few that didn’t press a battle through to the inevitable conclusion.

[Wolfie]

Coooooooooool
i love the description of teh aftermath of the blizzard spell

[jonajosa]

Very discriptive when come to going into Milk.

:goodjob:

[OverrideB1]

There was one other chamber on the lower floor and I knew what it contained even before I shattered the lock and looked inside. Oh, not the specifics ~ the corpses of four dead Redoran House guards ~ but I knew pretty much what to expect. What, I wondered, as I idly crushed the rats that had been using the place as a feeding chamber, had these Mer been doing here? Had they come seeking the bandits, or had rumour of the elementals brought them here?

One of the guards clutched a strange-looking torch. The handle of the torch was made of the same dark wood as any other but, instead of tar-soaked fabric wrapped around the end, there was a small brazier. Intrigued ~ especially since there was no trace of combustible material near where the torch lay ~ I pried it from his fingers. As I held it up, there was a soft sound and pale blue flames appeared in the brazier. I blinked, partially in surprise at the sudden appearance of the flames and partially because I could suddenly feel my magical abilities expanding. (Much later, I learned that this was a Sceptre of Arcane Knowledge: an ancient construct designed to boost the power of Nordic Mages and, with typical Nordic frugality, also provide light by burning the very arcane forces it enhanced for the one carrying it).

The stairs to the second level of Andasreth beckoned, and I ascended them to find myself in a curving hallway very much like the lower level. Turning to my right, I walked the short distance to the corner and started down the gloomy corridor that stretched before me. I had gone not very far ~ three of four dozen paces at most ~ when I became aware of a low buzzing sound. Simultaneously, all the fine hairs on my forearm stood up. Another dozen paces and I became aware that there were flickers of static lightning dancing on the blade of my axe. Hastily I returned it to its place on my pack and drew out the Ebony sword. To my relief, there were no crackling discharges along the black blade.

Litanigier and his two compatriots were as different to Shadowshard as chalk is to cheese. Whereas the ice elemental had appeared vaguely human ~ provided you didn’t look in its eyes ~ the storm elemental had taken the form of an Atronach, as had the two lesser elementals. I had about two heartbeats to wonder if Daedric armour conducted lightning when Litanigier answered the question for me.

The writhing ball of energy exploded against the front of my armour, hurling me backwards to crash against the wall of the passage. Limbs buzzing, hair sticking out in a million different directions, I shook my head to clear it of the ringing bells that seemed to have taken up residence. I rolled aside as another titanic bolt of energy hurled through the open door, narrowly avoiding the explosion. Daedric armour didn’t conduct energy, but too many bolts like that and it wouldn’t matter a damn. Scrambling to my feet I ran a short distance down the corridor to take stock: Fortunately, the elemental was too large to get through the doorway. Which, of course, begged the question: how did it get in there in the first place?

Such philosophical musings were cut short by the sudden appearance of the two lesser elementals. Grasping my sword, I rushed at them. Suicidal? Possibly, but it did have the advantage of me being close enough to them to inflict damage and make it difficult for them to use their ranged spells. The Ebony blade hammered into the side of the nearest elemental, cracking the stone while the shock of the impact made my hands numb. Gripping the hilt firmly, I smashed the blade into the elemental again and again ~ small chunks of material flaking off with every impact. By adopting a frantic hit and dodge approach, I was able to elude the massive grasping hands of the creature and inflict even more damage.

My only salvation lay in the fact that the corridor was far too narrow for two of them to stand side-by-side. As long as I kept them hemmed in between the door and the alcove behind me, I only had to deal with one elemental at a time. Within minutes, my berserker approach paid dividends ~ with a noise like an Alit howling down a hollow tube, the lesser elemental dissipated in a cloud of sparks. The other creature of Litanigier had been waiting for the moment his companion vanished. Extending its arms, it expelled a massive cloud of writhing sparks at me.

Once more I was thrown backwards, sliding along the corridor’s rough floor like a child on an icy lake. Thunderous footfalls broke through my momentary confusion, and I looked up to see the elemental advancing down the hall towards me. Extending a hand, I yelled, “Dywyll chymylau, yn nadu bwrw eira, angheuol brythwch.”

Instantly, the creature slowed: the whirling sphere of energy that surrounded it growing pale and dim. Pushing myself up off the floor, I pressed my advantage. Where the heart of the creature should be was a hollow chamber filled with a sphere of intense light. With a savage thrust (and a silent prayer) I drove the point of the ebon blade into the hollow. There was a thunderous noise, accompanied by a flash of light that almost blinded me. Had my eyes not been narrowed to facilitate my aim, I’m certain that the blinding brilliance would have seared them milky-white. When the flashes and dark spots that obscured my vision cleared, there was nothing left of the elemental but a large blackened smudge on the floor, from which smoke still rose.

“Litanigier,” I yelled, keeping well away from the opening to the room, “will you yield?”

I clapped my hands over my ears as a voice that literally boomed like thunder responded, “[b]Mortal. To Thee And Thy Kind I Shall Never Yield. Come, Face The Might Of Litanigier If Thou Dares.”

Well, it had been worth a try. When the echoes of that thunderous voice died away, I fetched out the small pack that contained my most valuable enchanted rings and amulets. Selecting the one I needed, The Ring Of Surroundings, I slipped it onto my finger and activated the enchantment. Unseen, a wraith, I slipped into the room and crept furtively up to the hulking mass of the elemental. As I’d hoped, there was a similar chamber of Litanigier’s chest. Squinting my eyes shut, I struck.

When the bells of Oblivion had stopped chiming in my head and I was able to pick myself up off the floor, the only trace of the elemental was a pile of rubble. I blinked, there seemed to be a film in front of my eyes ~ the flash had been brighter than the sun, visible even through close eyelids: had it damaged my eyes? With a shaky sigh, I realised that I still wore the ring and that the Shadow-Weave spell was still in effect. Ripping the ring from my finger, I was overjoyed to see my surroundings return to clear, sharp focus.

A search of the room turned up some interesting items, an oddly coloured Ioun stone, a strange hammer, and a bag of steel arrowheads. What made the hammer strange was that it sang a note of pure magic yet I could discern no enchantment on it. Wrapping my hands around the thick wooden shaft, I hefted the hammer and brought it down tentatively on a nearby table. As the head swished through the air, the metal suddenly started to glow, first a brilliant red and then a searing white. The table, poor innocent wooden thing, flashed into flames before the head of the hammer even made contact. I was unable to stop the downward arc of the hammer and, passing through the space where the table had been, it struck the floor. I gasped as a large section of solid rock started to bubble, stepping back from the ferocious heat.

I blinked, the hammer was unchanged, still the same dull grey it had been when I picked it up. Intrigued, I raised the hammer again and brought it down ~ only to have the heavy head smack harmlessly against the floor. I let my mind’s eye examine the hammer again ~ it still sang, but the note was now muted and distant. So, a lethal one-shot weapon that discharged its whole power store at once. I examined the hammer’s physical form, the only thing of interest being the word “ZUL” engraved around the metal post that held the head to the shaft.

The rest of Andasreth proved to be anti-climactic after that. I took the glittering stone that I assumed was the essence of Litanigier and pressed on. There were another couple of rooms on this second level ~ home to various bandits. None of these proved to be anything like a match for me in sword-play or magic and I cut a swath through them. They must have been moderately successful, for I found three more Ioun stones and three interesting charms, which I resolved to investigate at my leisure.

Infritel, the fire elemental on the roof of Andasreth, proved to be incredibly susceptible to the spells Jaron had taught me and, after my second casting, had been vanquished without even making me draw my sword. Collecting the fire-filled bottle that was its essence, I made my way down through the now abandoned Fort and outside to the Propylon Chamber. This, I thought, would make an ideal place to rest and recover.

[Wolfie]

did you get tired or something? you didn't even describe the fight with the fire guy

[jonajosa]

:goodjob: Please keep it comin( in normal hours of the day )